Macaroni and Cheese
by potentialdrowner
Summary: Life is such a precious thing but we don't realize such a thing until it's taken away from us. But what do we do when things are taken away? One-shot. Rated M for language and extreme emotion context. R/R Slash. Enjoy.


**A/N: **

Pairing: Edward/Jasper

One shot.

I should let you know that this is probably one of the most emotional things I've ever written. I cried a bit when I wrote this so beware.

Enjoy it and realize that life is too precious to worry about anything else but friends, family and love. Be happy.

It was one of those days ya'know? When the sun was shining at just the right angle and the chirping of the birds seemed to ease any tension in your muscles. I smiled lightly as I stood over the stove poking at the sliced potatoes floating in the pot. Home-made mashed potatoes. He loved them.

"You do know a watched pot never boils?" He says from the other side of the kitchen, fluffing the salad and grinning up at me.

"Are you watching the pot or me?"

"You of course."

And suddenly the salad is forgotten and he's pulling me into his arms. It's a struggle of a continuous kiss as we fight for dominance knowing full well that neither party will win. But he's the first to break it and I smirk.

"Shut up Edward." He says, pecking me once more.

"I didn't say _anything_"

"Yes, but you were thinking it. You didn't win. Besides, your potatoes are boiling."

And he's right, as usual. So it's back to poking the potatoes and watching my husband of two wonderful years fiddle with the salad on the other side of the kitchen.

God, it's been two years. It seems like only yesterday he was checking me out at the corner coffee shop and sheepishly asking for my number. Then he spilled his coffee on me. Thank god it was frozen.

And the wedding, god don't get me started on that. Jasper had to make sure it was perfect and it was of course. I didn't really care for all that fancy stuff but it was what made him happy so I tolerated that fancy shit.

But I knew I would have given into anything he wanted. So when he suggested we buy this house and 'fix it up' I was hesitant. I mean, it was in Harper Woods only a few blocks outside Detroit. Detroit. The Motor City. The _dead_ Mo-town. Shit, it was dangerous night or day in Detroit and here he wanted to buy a house.

And I said yes. But it was a good neighborhood with good people who are just trying to survive. The elderly woman next door would not stop pestering us until we allowed her to plant roses out front. She insisted that every _good_ married couple had a very rose bushes out front of their home. And she was sweet and I couldn't say no to that smiling face. Even if my Grandfather would have a problem with her because she was black but I held not prejudice against her. Because life was full of bigger problems than black people or gay people or stupid people.

I even allowed her to redecorate our living room because she said it was proper to have a good living space for when people visited. So I forced her to go to bingo with me because I thought that's what all old people did.

I stare blankly out into the living room. Jasper and I had christened every surface of this house. I grinned because I should have told our neighbor that before she began to touch the sofa where I had bitten into it when Jasper roughly made love to me.

And he's behind me again, kissing my neck.

"Come back to now Edward."

God he knows me too well.

"Shouldn't you be finishing that salad?"

"I finished it a while ago, I just like pretending to work while I watch you."

And he's kissing my neck and I'm humming in approval.

I shudder lightly as he kisses behind my ear because he knows what it does to me when he does that.

"Go get some milk from the corner store." I tell him.

"We don't need milk"

"Yes we do unless you want your mac n' cheese made with water."

"Your macaroni and cheese made with water? I think not."

And he's gone in a flash because if he loves my macaroni and cheese more than he loves my home-made mashed potatoes. I grin to myself as I think over the first time I made them for him.

Shaking my head lightly, I turn my attention back to the potatoes as I prod them with thought. Done.

Draining the pot, I place it back on the stove top and begin mashing them up. Soon they become what Jasper loves so much and I add my 'secret' ingredients. Spooning them out of the pot and into a bowl I place them on the kitchen table and begin to check the other items I've made for dinner.

Its fifteen minutes later that I begin to think that Jasper's gotten himself lost on his little journey. I stare at the waiting pasta on the stove top and the sauce pan on the counter and then back toward the clock on the wall.

Striding over to the brazed ham, I smiling at it and think about that man again. Well, his mother approves of my feeding him. I laugh aloud this time.

Picking up the dish, I moved across the room with the intention of setting it on the table but still my movements. It was a loud ringing sound. Seemingly bouncing off every single flat plane and vibrating the glassware. Gunshot.

I hold my breath and drop the dish. The shattering of the glass pan doesn't even help me regain my focus. Please not him.

And I'm rushing to the front door as if my very life depends on it. Flinging open the screen door and almost ripping it off my hinges as I dash outside. And once again I'm frozen in my wake as I take in the scene before me.

It's two young men probably around the age of sixteen standing over _my _Jasper and one of them has a gun.

My mouth is dry and I open and close it like a fish.

"Jasper" and the word leaves my lips like a whisper.

I bound over to him completely oblivious of the two teenagers, pulling him into my arms and staring down into his face. I shake him lightly as I stare at the wound in his chest. Blood, it's everywhere and I put my hand over the opening and press down on it because that's what I've seen on those shows. I cringe as it seeps through my fingers and its sticky and thin and it scares the life out of me.

"E-Edward."

And I stare at him as my eyes begin to water.

"Yes baby, I'm here."

And he's looking at me with this expression that he means to tell me he's sorry. But I cannot figure out what he's sorry for because I agreed to do whatever he wanted.

"I'm s-s-s"

"No, don't say it. You've got nothing to be sorry for. This is our home, our neighborhood and god baby it's beautiful."

And then I realize I'm crying more as the blood begins to trickle from the corner of his mouth. Crying because I know that it isn't a good sign because people usually die when it comes to that point and I'm not ready for that yet.

"Edward." His voice is fainter than what I remember and he's still staring at me with that stupid expression. "I l-l-l-ove you."

"I love you too baby, it's going to be fine. You're going to be alright."

It's at this point that I totally forget about the two boys who are still standing only feet from me or the sounds of the doors that have snapped shut as people step out on their porch to see exactly what is going on. Or even the fact that I can see my neighbor out of the corner of my eye and she has her hand over her mouth like if she removes it that she's going to scream.

No, my attention is on the fact that the love of my life, my husband has completely stopped moving, stopped breathing. And I'm staring down into his open lifeless eyes but my hands still pressing hard against the gun shot in his chest.

It's than that I hear the sirens, the police or the ambulance I don't know but I hear them in the distance and they're growing louder.

"You hear that baby? They're coming to save you." I whisper, kissing his cheek and closing his eyes. Yeah, save him…but who's going to save me?

I set him down on the ground, my hand ghosting through his golden locks one last time and I stand up.

The teenagers in front of me seem as shocked as I was when I first came outside.

"So…" I say calmly, finally looking up at them.

And you would expect that I would tell you that they're black and no good but they were white and kids I'd never seen before.

"It feels a whole lot different when it's real doesn't it?"

They just stare at Jasper for what seems like an eternity before the one with the gun looks at me. And he's crying for what reason I don't care.

"It feels real when you have the blood on your hands doesn't it? On my hands."

And I don't even realize what I'm doing until I've already stepped over my dead husband and grab the arm of the boy with the gun. Until I push the gun to my chest as my blood hand slides slightly down the forearm of the teenager.

"What are you waiting for? You've already taken my world from me. It would be even worse to leave me in this world alone."

But he doesn't move because he's too busy staring at my bloody hand on his arm. Because the whole situation feels a lot more real when you can feel and see and smell the blood.

"Do it."

I'm yelling again and I can hear my neighbor sob from the few yards she's standing from us. But I don't know if she's sobbing because my lover just died or because I'm asking the boy to take my life too. I can feel my arm shaking but I don't know if it's because I just asked this boy to end my life or because I'm afraid that he actually might do it.

"Please."

I say again and this time he looks at me. He looks at me directly in the teary face and shakes his head.

"What? You can't do it now? Look at him! LOOK AT HIM!"

I glare down at Jasper, dead and motionless and so does the boy.

"You took him from me so just do it!"

And I'm jabbing his gun back into my chest half hoping he does have the balls to pull that trigger because I desperately don't want to live without Jasper.

But he doesn't.

And the police are here along with the ambulance and I want to tell them that they're too late to save him.

But I can't because Emmett has shown up from down the street and his arms are around me and he's hold me while I struggle against him. I continue to beat against his chest as I let out a strangled scream as I've finally finished crying and my sorrow turned to anger.

And I don't give in to his pressured hug even though he tells me things were going to be okay. Not even as I notice that my neighbors hugging me from behind because she knows nothing will ever take away that feeling in my heart. And I still continue to resist because I only let Jasper hug me from behind.

And I can feel the eyes of the neighborhood and the police and the EMTs. And I know they all feel sorry for me because I just lost someone who I loved. But I don't want to stop fighting because I know as soon as I do—I'll finally realize that he's never going to be coming back and he'll never eat that god damn unfinished macaroni and cheese sitting on the counter.


End file.
